


Tending Wings and Other Things

by SnakesandTea



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Coming In Pants, Consensual, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Erections, M/M, Masturbation, Rutting, Smut, Touching, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, Wingfic, Wings, coming in clothes, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24069652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnakesandTea/pseuds/SnakesandTea
Summary: Crowley asks Aziraphale to preen him. Of course, the angel says yes. And, with an act so intimate as preening, well, one thing was bound to lead to another.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 186





	Tending Wings and Other Things

The doorbell jingled announcing Crowley’s arrival. Aziraphale thought it was rather kind of him to enter his shop properly. Miracle-appearances were not only jarring, but rude. Obviously, no one upstairs understood ‘rudeness’ in the way he meant it. Miracling oneself places what just what angels did; he couldn’t imagine the nightmare of explaining human manners to Gabriel. “Hello, my dear boy,” Aziraphale greeted, cheerfully. His demon neglected to reply. He wasn’t ruffled; Crowley often sauntered in with little more than a vague look in his direction. The angel returned his attention to his novel, waiting for the demon to settle-in.

After a few hours of frantic pacing, Crowley flopped into a chair. “Hi,” he drawled. His wings, though invisible at present, itched and hurt terribly. He shifted his weight but it didn’t do much good – the damned things drove him to the bookshop. Crowley knew he wouldn’t be able to preen himself – the years of inattention had resulted in far too much damage. His angel was the only being he trusted to touch his feathers. He shuddered, equally apprehensive and excited about the thought of those ethereal fingers in his feathers.

Aziraphale smiled and set his book carefully aside. “I thought you were going to run a hole in my floor, my dear.” He noticed the demon’s eyes flicker toward the door. “To what do I owe this delightfully unexpected visit?” The angel gently prodded.

Unable to meet his eyes, Crowley stared at Aziraphale’s mug. He almost sneered at the perfectly-tended ceramic wings. The demon wanted to scream that they should be grateful they didn’t need to be preened. His cheeks burned as the question churned on his tongue. “I… erm… uh…” He shifted uncomfortably again.

Though growing worried, Aziraphale did not wish to rush his demon. Clearly, whatever it was Crowley wanted to ask, took tremendous strength. Therefore, the principality waited patiently, his hands crossed in his lap.

Finally, he whispered, “Preen me, Angel?” Crowley despised the brittleness in his tone. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes grew frustratingly misty.

The inquiry took his breath away. Aziraphale had always wanted to run his hand along the demon’s gorgeous feathers. Touching another supernatural beings’ wings, well, it was often considered more intimate than sex. And here, Crowley came to his bookshop to ask him to do just that – to preen him. Aziraphale rationalized that his demon was simply in need of assistance and requested help! “I’d be happy to, my dear.”

“You sure? They’re really bad,” he admitted.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Aziraphale replied confidently.

Crowley smirked to disguise the grateful smile pulling at his lips. “Not gonna see ‘em and change your mind?”

“No, I don’t believe I will.” He smiled brightly.

A short while later, Crowley lay on his stomach, clad only in a dark undershirt and black boxers. His midnight wings were splayed gorgeously at his sides. He would have been a picture of sublime beauty had Aziraphale not known just how horribly they must hurt. The normally silky, sleek feathers had become a lackluster, flat black.

Aziraphale did everything in his power to not gasp. The demon usually took remarkable care of his wings. But it appeared Crowley had neglected to tend to himself for more than a few molts. Old, dead feathers clumped together with crusted blood prevented the new ones from growing in properly. He started in on the first wing, gently detangling and picking out the old feathers. Aziraphale softly rubbed his fingertips across the sensitive skin beneath, careful to avoid using his nails as he attempted to alleviate some of the demon’s itchiness.

The same butterflies that bloomed in Crowley’s stomach when he met the angel on the Wall fluttered as Aziraphale’s perfectly manicured fingers combed through his wing. His toes curled as he moaned loudly under the Principality’s ministrations. His cheeks flushed.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, my dear.” He worked deeper into the wing, sliding his fingers through the pitch-dark feathers as he searched for stragglers.

Crowley made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Please don’t stop,” He begged.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Aziraphale assured him. Crowley’s wings fluffed up as he relaxed, allowing the angel to get to the tender under-wing. He used the same small, circular, loving strokes to spread the oil, his fingers slick and gliding through the feathers. Aziraphale hummed while he worked. The pile by his knees grew as he diligently detangled and massaged his demon’s wings. Crowley's natural oil produced a rather alluring fragrance, and Aziraphale, unable to resist, put his face millimeters above the onyx feathers and deeply inhaled.

“S’m’thin’ ya like, angel?” Crowley mumbled, far too enraptured to strike the sarcasm he intended.

“I apologize, dear boy. You smell divine,” he admitted as a blush crept through his cheeks.

Genuinely curious, the demon prompted, “Tell me.”

Aziraphale hovered just above the soft feathers again and took a slow, deep breath. He held the scent in his nose, almost as one would when tasting a fine wine. “Well, my dear, you smell like you – like Crowley – like home. Yours is a scent I'd know anywhere. A delicious, musky fragrance, as hair or wing oil often smells, but with decadent undertones of what can only be described as leather, old books, and fresh coffee. There's something else...” He took another appraising breath and swallowed a lusty moan that threatened to give him away. “An ancient, deep, old smell of magic which no current language has named. Oh, Crowley, it’s rather lovely.”

He listened with rapt attention, basking in his angel’s words. The praise left his thoughts languidly swirling around his head, absolutely intoxicated. His cock brought him back to the present, painfully erect and leaking precum in his boxers.

Aziraphale resumed his attentions, peppering kisses here and there in the dark feathers. “You're absolutely exquisite,” he whispered and brushed the most sensitive part of his demon’s wing. Crowley groaned indecently and shifted beneath him. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“N-uh, um, y—no, no, I-I’m fine,” he stumbled.

“What is it?” Aziraphale inquired softly; though, he had his suspicions.

Crowley shook his head.

“Are you, perhaps, concealing an erection, my dear?”

“Ngk!”

Ah, so that was it. He smiled, pleased with himself. “Again, nothing to be embarrassed about. This is supposed to feel good,” Aziraphale stated simply and continued gently scratching the new pinfeathers.

The demon moaned softly and buried his head in the pillow. He hoped Aziraphale wouldn’t notice as he lightly bucked his hips, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

“Oh, Crowley,” he tutted but his lips perked up at the corners. The angel hardened seeing his demon so unabashedly chasing ecstasy.

He rut faster and harder, unable to stop himself. The mind-blowing friction ramped up, promising a rapturous end. Crowley grunted as he grinded against the rug, needing that tantalizing relief.

Aziraphale enjoyed watching him come undone beneath him. Each of the demon’s motions punctuated by a breathless gasp. He put a hand on Crowley’s back, stilling his frantic bucking. “My dear,” Aziraphale purred. His skin barely brushed against Crowley’s back as he leaned over him and whispered in his ear. “I’m rather in need of a release as well.”

He shivered under the admission. Crowley pressed himself up and rubbed against the angel’s cock. He smiled, feeling the dampness of his trousers. “A bit excited there, angel, aren’t y—” Soft lips crushed into his. He melted into the kiss as his fingers twirled in Aziraphale’s hair.

Oh! The angel kept his eyes closed, indulging in his demon’s taste. He parted his lips and the forked tongue brushed against his own. A wayward sound escaped his throat. Aziraphale’s head “Is this all right?”

“More than all right, Angel” Crowley breathlessly replied. He hungrily smashed their mouths together again. The tingle in his lips short-circuited any reservation.

The angel moaned, savoring the sensation of the serpentine tongue exploring his mouth. His hips strained to rock along with Crowley’s; but he stilled them. He cherished the meeting of their lips too much to sully it with indecent rutting. Aziraphale wrapped his arm around and cupped his demon through the cotton. “Oh, my dear.” and he permitted them.

Crowley groaned as those perfectly manicured fingers slid along his length. Shitshitshit! He’d been on edge for so long. Aziraphale’s breath hot on his shoulder, the principality’s palm against dick – Ah! “Angel,” he moaned.

Good lord, the way his demon said _Angel_ nearly had him painting his trousers. Aziraphale rolled Crowley onto his back. He wanted to watch as his demon came under his hand. He studied the impeccable being beneath him: his angular cheeks flushed with arousal, golden eyes glazy and lust-filled. And oh, his wings! His gorgeous wings splayed behind him as though he lay amidst a storm-dark sky. Aziraphale leaned down, pressed his forehead to his demon’s and whispered, “Is this still all right?”

Powers of speech evaded him. Crowley nodded and found his principality’s lips again. He kissed him passionately, his slender fingers lightly gripping the blonde hair. His muscles ached with the effort, shaking and straining to hold himself up as he tasted the angel. Unable to maintain his stamina, he broke the kiss and lay back down, mourning the loss of his soft mouth. His grief was short-lived, as the principality’s measured stroked grew faster. Crowley intoned incoherent phrases, writhing as his angel pleasured him. Needing harder friction, his hips bucked hungrily against the deliciously warm hand.

Aziraphale reveled in every syllable. The utter nonsense spoke volumes which words could articulate. He palmed himself through his trousers and matched pace with the hand tending his demon. “My dear, you’re magnificent.” More moisture spurt through Crowley’s underpants and Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “A fan of praise, are you?” He asked, his perfectly manicured fingers flying faster.

“Ngk!”

The angel chuckled, adoring the wonderful sounds his demon was making. He reveled in it being his hand and his words, bringing such decadent noises from the demon’s throat. Oh! Oh dear! His lips parted in a silent scream as ejaculate exploded in his pants. He kept rutting against his hand, prolonging the indescribably fantastic sensation as more pearly, hot spurts shot from his tip. The hand rubbing his demon only faltered for a moment before he properly resumed his attentions.

Crowley panted, grunting as euphoria rolled through him. “Ngk, I’m –” His vision went fuzzy and he involuntarily curled up against Aziraphale. He wrapped his arms tightly around the angel and shuddered, cumming hard in his boxers.

Sticky, wet, heat burst against Aziraphale’s palm. He kept stroking until his demon gently pushed him aside.

“Shit,” He breathed, collapsing on the floor.

Aziraphale chuckled softly, delighting in the satiated look on his demon’s face He truly believed he had never seen a sight so entrancingly beautiful: Crowley’s short, ginger hair messily stuck out at all angles, beads of sweat glistened on his temples, and his forked tongue lazily hung from the corner of his parted lips.

“Wot?” Crowley asked.

“Nothing, my dear.”

He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re lookin’ at me like ‘m a book. Wot is it?” Crowley was still riding the dizzying high of his angel’s hand bringing him to climax. He imagined Aziraphale’s hand cupping his bulge once again. Ngk! Realization dawned on the demon. Oh, shit! “Did you…” Unable to find the right words, he trailed off.

The angel blushed a deep crimson. “Yes, my dear, I did.” He glanced down at his crotch.

Crowley followed his gaze. A rather large, creamy deposit marked the beige trousers. Had he not just spunked his own underwear, that, certainly, would have done it. His lips upturned into an approving smirk. “Oh, Angel.”

“Well!” Aziraphale began fussily, “It only seemed fair! You know, for us to both…um…”

“Get off?” He supplied, smiling.

“I suppose, but you don’t have to be so vulgar, my dear.”

Crowley snorted. “Vulgar? Me? And here I was thinking ‘get off’ was tame. Would you prefer cum? Jizz? Spunk? Or, if you like a scientific approach, might I suggest, ejaculate?”

The angel’s mouth opened in a wide ‘O’ as his cheeks heated once more. “Crowley!” He lightly chastised.

“What? ‘S just what it’s called.” His smirk returned, knowing he was getting under his skin. He loved seeing Aziraphale flustered, particularly if something _he_ said got the angel hot and bothered.

He pursed his lips. “Yes, well, I won’t be using such obscene terminology.”

“Are you anticipating another occasion to present itself?” The demon asked, brows raised and a cocky smile on his lips.

Aziraphale paused to consider the quandary. “We’ll see, my dear.” he replied, a mischievous light dancing in his eyes.

Ngk! Crowley thanked Someone he was already on the floor as his jaw dropped. “W-wh… uhh… yuh… n… m—See?” He swallowed hard and tried to keep the hopeful tone from his voice, but it snuck in anyway. “You mean you’d want to do this again?”

“Of course. We both enjoyed ourselves, and there isn’t anyone else I’d rather do it with.”

The words left the angel’s mouth so matter-of-factly, they took a few minutes to sink in. His beloved principality desired to pleasure him again! “Oh,” Crowley managed through the tightness in his throat.

“Unless there is someone else y—”

“No! Only you, Angel!” He interrupted. It had always been him. There wasn’t another being in any universe he wanted to make love to – Crowley only had eyes for Aziraphale.

He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to the demon’s knuckles. Aziraphale frequently hoped somewhere, in the future, he and Crowley would be free to indulge their love as often and as intimately as they wished. But for now, this was enough.


End file.
